Obsession
by niamhlove
Summary: Slightly AU of how Jenna came to 'obsess' over Toby - sort of a companion piece to Trying Not to Love You - Hope you like it
1. Chapter 1 - Beatles and Backstory

Obsession

She knew people thought she was obsessed with him. That she was sick and twisted for how she felt about him. He was her stepbrother not her real brother. And he had made her feel beautiful once.

Her mom and dad had split up when she had told her teacher what her daddy had been doing to her for years. The late night bedroom visits, the terrifying creak of her door before it opened up. Even now she slept with a nightlight.

Oh the irony she supposed.

She still didn't believe that her mother didn't know what was happening - where did she think her husband was at night when he wasn't with her. Getting the world's longest drink? But once it had been made public her mother left him and moved away - ever the consummate professional her mother, somehow she was able to turn herself into the victim, when it was her own daughter who had been getting raped every night not her.

Then her mother had met Toby's dad at some bullshit therapy group for parents, and like that she had a new father now. Her mother was a peach- lets lump my terrified of men daughter with a new daddy just as long as I don't have to be alone it will be a-okay. Her mother was a bitch and She just couldn't feel sympathy for anything to do with her.

But then she had met Toby. The one bright spot in this marriage of convenience. Which is what it was, Mr Cavanaugh wanted a wife and a mother for her son, and her mom just NEEDED a man the way that most people needed oxygen. It was convenient for both of them not love. But Toby was nice to her, kind even and not that much older than her. She thought maybe they could be friends - band together in this mockery of a happy family.

She wasn't expecting it to be The Brady Bunch - as far as she could remember Marsha had been hit by a football not brutally raped since she was 6. But then she wasn't exactly tall stunning and blonde like Marsha either so maybe that was why? Her mother looked like Mrs Brady, acted like her too at least in public. In private she despaired over her dark haired short plain daughter who only wanted to sit in her room and play music. She had wanted a daughter like herself - a girl who would do pageants and more importantly reflect well on her.

Mr Cavanaugh was nice to her though, he seemed to be a genuinely nice person, too good for her mom that was for sure. And when he had discovered how much she liked music he had brought an old piano in from the shed and unpacked a load of sheet music and let her go wild. She figured they were his late wife's things, every time she played Toby would come to the doorway and watch not saying anything but he tended to look both peaceful and wrecked all at the same time. He was nice to her but stand offish too. She just assumed his father had told him about the abuse she had suffered and he was keeping his distance to be polite.

Then the summer came and her mother had come up with the idea of weekly camp nights in their backyard. How fun it would be and how bonding! Her mother was clearly on drugs. But she complied and every week sat at a stone ringed campfire and ate smores. It was boring and pointless and she would rather be inside writing music.

It was like Toby heard her psychically some how and brought his guitar out and played. Their parents wandered back inside as usual to watch TV and drink but for once they remained outside listening to the guitar music while the sun went down.

He played 'Hey Jude' - it was her favourite song and the only thing from her childhood not tainted. She remembered an old babysitter playing it on repeat when she looked after her and she knew the words well. And though she didn't mean too she started singing along. Then at the end of the song Toby had leaned over and kissed her.

It was her first real kiss. He was soft and gentle and though his lips were dry, it had felt wonderful. When he pulled back he started playing another Beatles tune on the guitar and she returned to singing along.

That's where it had started, that simple kiss, that beautiful song. They had never really discussed it but they started getting closer, going out more, and talking more. He had told her all about his mom - how loved she was and how hurt he had been at her suicide. She had shared how she felt about her mom and he hadn't been disgusted with her. She was happy for the first time. And when their relationship got more physical she hadn't been scared, she felt safe with Toby.

Well she had until the letter arrived. She knew who had wrote it and why but couldn't tell Toby it had been her mother. Her mother who knew if their relationship continued it could destroy the life she had made for herself, damn the fact that her daughter was happy. She knew exactly what to say to destroy Toby's love for her and she had. Her mother was a bitch.

She knew the first time she tried to persuade Toby to be with her again that he had been disgusted with her. Her skin felt all crawly now and she knew when her looked at her all he could see was the abuse. He thought she was vile, and tainted and gross. When only weeks before he had called her beautiful and written her poetry. Poems that she had kept in a box under her bed so that his sweet words invaded her dark dreams. Nightmares returned to her that had been gone for so long she woke up crying in the night, and no-one came to comfort her. Not Toby and not her mother. She was always alone.

When the true darkness came and she could no longer see that is when she truly felt terror. Terror she hadn't felt since living with her father.

She couldn't see those who wanted to hurt her, every door opening could be her father, every creak. Every heated breath against her face.

She knew it wasn't Toby who had blinded her; he hated her now but not enough to take away her sight. She just assumed it was her mother. This way she got herself a docile daughter reliant on her and more importantly she would receive the recognition she craved as the 'wonderful mother who looked after her blind daughter what a saint she must be' from the local townspeople.

Her obsession wasn't Toby as such; it was to feel the way she had when he loved her, to feel beautiful and worthy again. Sometimes she felt he still loved her deep inside, the way he would take her hand to guide her, or the way he had rearranged her room to make it easier to navigate. But the biggest indication is that he still had her ringtone on his phone as 'Hey Jude'. Maybe she wasn't the only one with a small obsession.


	2. Chapter 2 - Hazelnut Lattes and Letter

Obsessions Part2

The first faint beginnings of Hey Jude trilled on a phone across the Brew. He looked up sharply and saw the middle aged man two tables across from him smile and pick up his phone. As the man started his conversation clearly with pleasure, he relaxed and returned back to his book. He tried to get lost in the words on the page, taste the hot sweet tea, and enjoy the quiet solitude for just a little longer. But he was too distracted all he could think about the song, the words, the tune and her. Always her.

He had thought about the beginnings of their ill fated romance a lot. Probably more than was healthy to be honest but it was like a movie in his head. The campfire, the guitar and the kiss.

He tried to return to his book, it was one of his favourites; which was when he realised she was stood in front of him.

She had either become ridiculously stealthy in the last few weeks or he had been more out of it than he would have thought. She didn't say anything; she just took the seat across from him and slid an envelope towards him.

He didn't reach for it, he was watching her. It was strange to look at her now, knowing she couldn't see him and he didn't like it. He also didn't like the subtle differences in her that said she was having a really bad day, he couldn't be sure if that was he didn't want to know about her bad day or if he hated that he still knew the signs. She had been picking at her manicure, and her clothes clashed. She was wearing jeans with red shirt and pink vest. Jenna didn't do colours that much anymore since losing her sight it was easier to just wear dark colours – that way she knew her clothes would match. It was her own personal blind paranoia, so for her to be wearing colour showed how much she was in a rush to get dressed.

He reached across and removed her dark glasses. He didn't like her wearing them around him, she only wore them to put other people at ease and he didn't consider himself to be other people. They had a complicated relationship to be sure but they still had an easy intimacy that sometimes confused him.

She started slightly when he moved the glasses but still didn't speak, just reached out and tapped the letter. A waitress wandered over to their table and enquired whether he wanted a refill; he nodded and asked for hazelnut latter for Jenna. Then he took the letter in hand and opened it. The only distinctive thing on the envelope was that it was addressed to Jenna Cavanaugh and not Marshall, but he assumed it was just a mistake. But when he opened the letter, he realised the mistake was an intentional one. It had both a typed letter and underneath it was a Perkins Braille letter.

He read the typed letter and couldn't understand why it had been included. But his blood was up now and he could feel his leg jittering under the table. Now he understood why Jenna looked so scared.

The letter was from her father. He remembered receiving a letter of his own a year or so ago informing him of the atrocious attacks he had done to his young daughter. The letter he had received had been oddly dispassionate, but when he had confronted Jenna with it she had given him the whole story, and he had been physically sick. This letter wasn't much better even though it wasn't graphic. It was repugnant though, he was telling her how he loved her, how he had loved her as a child, and loved her now and couldn't wait to see her. That he would be her eyes since she no longer had her own. And that he was so looking forward to being her daddy again. And that he would see her soon. It just sounded so creepy and so sexual. Toby felt ill just reading the letter.

He reached across and grasped her hand. She seemed surprised at the voluntary touching and he figured it had probably been a good few months since he had touched her even in the smallest way. He whispered to her

'Are you okay?'

He wasn't expecting an answer – it was as if she was mute not blind, but she surprised him by replying. Except it wasn't what he expected.

'How did he know where to send it, and more importantly how did he know to call me Cavanaugh?'

She kept hold of his hand tightly, even when the waitress returned with their drinks, she couldn't see but the waitress had smiled at them indulgently, secreting thinking that they were a very striking couple. He measured his response when he replied, it was a trait of his to think before he spoke or did anything, it had been something she had always teased him about, saying the last impulsive thing he had even done was kiss her.

'The prison system maybe or his lawyer. I know this is scary but he is still locked up. He can't touch you bunny.'

The nickname had just slipped out, and he desperately tried to cram it back into his mouth. It was no good of reminding either of them of things they would be better off forgetting. But she didn't react to it and though he was tempted to remove his hand from hers – he thought it would draw to much attention to his slip up.

'You're probably right, Toby. I was just over-reacting, I read the letter and I freaked out and the only person I could share this was you. You are the only one who knows the truth.' She then picked up her coffee mug and took a big sip.

The thrum of the coffee shop intruded again on their little personal bubble and once again the phone belonging to the man across from them started ringing, and Jenna smiled warmly at him upon hearing the familiar Beatles song start playing. She even started humming along.

Toby felt for the first time in a long time relieved that she couldn't see his face anymore for he had lied to her for the second time since he had met her. He was severely concerned about the letter and what it actually meant. And like Jenna he wanted to know how Mr Marshall had known where to send it. The very fact that he was in jail for child abuse meant he would not have the means to contact the child he had been sent away for abusing. Someone had to have told him where she lived, and more importantly what her life was like, that she was blind now. He had sounded way too pleased about that in the letter, pleased that despite being older now she was still vulnerable, still fragile.

It disturbed him to think that six years of hard time had done nothing to dispel her father's attentions for her. If anything his obsession had gotten worse and the implication behind the letter sounded like he was coming here to Rosewood, to Jenna.

But he didn't say any of this to Jenna; he released her hand, picked up his now cooling cup of sweet tea and took a long sip. He just sat in the coffee shop and watched her drink her coffee humming away to herself, she seemed secure in the knowledge that she was okay now and trusting Toby to take care of her and not for the first time he reflected on what it was that drew people to her and caused such infatuation. Or in a possible worse case scenario Obsessed.


	3. Chapter 3 - Dreams and Desire

Obsessions Part 3

She lay in her bed, looking at the back of her eyelids. This was the only time she saw colour now, if she opened her eyes only she saw was a whole lot of nothing. But with her eyes closed she saw great bursts of colour, it was her little secret. She hated that her whole life was now an open book. She had no secrets, it was no secret what she got in the post, or her emails, heck even when she came on her period was now an open family issue. She hated asking for them to buy her feminine products but she couldn't see them on the grocery shelves.

Everyone just assumed she was hard nosed but over the last year or so she had had learned to be cruel. It wasn't a natural state for her; she actually preferred to hide in the shadows, not that most people would believe that. But she loved sometimes how powerful it made her feel, for someone who had spent most of her life being a victim it was nice to feel in control sometimes. Being blind everyone natural response was pity and she hated that. By being bitchy the pity soon dwindled and she just got left alone. Which was exactly what she wanted. The only times she felt she could be herself anymore was when she played her music or when she went to her art classes at Hollis, the other students didn't seem to pity her, they just treated her like just another student. That was the beauty of the art classes, she made beautiful things and felt like she made beautiful friendships too, ones cloaked in anonymity.

She wasn't planning on getting close to another person for as long as she could help it, sooner or later her sordid past with her father would emerge and going off Toby's response to it, destroy any fragile attempt at love she had made. She wasn't sure what was worse, her father's sexual abuse or her mother's emotional abuse. She knew her mother would never let her leave her apron-strings, not now that she was a blind ticket to recognition within the community. She was convinced her mother had that disease- Munchausen by Proxy, but sometimes she felt like the crazy one because no-one but her seemed to notice anything wrong with her mother.

She could feel tears on her face and she knew it was time to get up, every day she did this; let her mind run in circles back to the insane idea that it was her own mother who had done this to her but she just couldn't shake it. And every day she had to get up, wash, dress and eat breakfast at the same table as her and get on with facing her new life such as it was. She wished she was like Toby and had moved out to her own place, but that just seemed like a fantasy.

Thinking about Toby just reminded her of yesterday and she just wondered how he was today. She hoped that it was step one on the long road of them being friends again.

She wasn't deluded enough to think they would ever re-kindle their romance again but maybe friendship wasn't completely out of their grasp. And for the first time in what felt forever she got out of bed with a smile.

On the other-side of town Toby was staring at the ceiling, thinking about yesterday too only his thoughts were of a few hours after the coffee shop encounter. They had sat there for a little longer drinking their respective drinks and listening to the babble of the customers around them. He had forgotten how easy it was just to sit and relax with her, how quiet she could be. And almost automatically he had started telling her about the latest job he had been on and his new project of how he was up cycling old pieces of furniture and selling them at a boutique a couple of towns over.

She had listened attentively and asked lots of interesting questions. She had even offered to do some designing for some business cards for him and he had taken her up on it as he knew what a good eye she had for that sort of thing. Not long after that she had taken her leave of him, but not before kissing him goodbye on his cheek and thanking him for looking into the letter. It hadn't been salacious in fact it was almost perfunctorily, but his cheek had tingled where her lips had touched and he had been able to smell her perfume long after she had left. It was very distinctive, it smelt of parma violets and she was the only woman he knew who wore Anglomania; so he always associated that smell, the colour and those sweets with her. Violet scented kisses. He had forgotten how dangerous his memories of her were.

Not that Spencer had failed to inform him of this and many other things when she had rounded on him later. Apparently Emily had seen him with Jenna at the Coffee Shop and had immediately texted Spencer. He was a little annoyed at that to be honest; it felt a little bit like tattling on him. He was perfectly able to decide who he wanted to spend time with; he didn't need his friends or acquaintances vetted by his girlfriend or her friends.

Spencer didn't really understand him and Jenna, and that's partly due to him never giving her the full explanation of what had really happened between them but it was private and he wanted it to stay that way. So she had come to her own conclusions, he couldn't really blame her for her explosive reaction to their meeting but it hadn't exactly been a clandestine affair in a motel off the interstate – it was a coffee in public for God's Sake.

He had been pretty truculent with her during the conversation and just let her ramble and moan, his mind had been on the problem of Jenna's letter. When they had gone their separate ways he had returned to his flat and for the first time googled the particulars of Jenna's child abuse case.

He hadn't had the stomach to do it previously and was paranoid at what he would have found out about Jenna and her mom.

Her mom Amanda was an enigma, she looked nothing like Jenna. She was tall and willowy and had that lovely ash blonde hair that so many older women aimed for but most failed to achieve. She had no discernible musical or artistic talent unless flower arranging and charitable fundraising counted. She was in all the pictures that Toby could find online and seemed to be treating the whole court case as if it was a fashion show. Amanda seemed to be extremely vacuous and high maintenance and the complete opposite of his mother but his dad seemed to be happy with the marriage.

He had never told anyone but not long after he and Jenna had started seeing each other, Amanda had cornered him in their kitchen and tried to kiss and grope him. He had pushed away from her and never mentioned anything to his dad or Jenna, but had found it strange and weird as she had never shown any interest in him before nor since.

He had been disgusted at learning the particulars of case, he hadn't realised that Jenna had been so young when it had started nor that it had included physical abuse as well as sexual. He had only seen one picture of Jenna from the court case and she had looked so tiny and fragile. She had a couple of bruises on her faces and her face was surrounded by a halo of gorgeous brown hair. He was a little confused as he understood that her father had been in custody for months before these pictures were taken so he wasn't sure where the bruises were from. He had stared at the picture for ages; he was fascinated by how innocent and how strong she looked. That contradiction was beautiful and the artist in him was attracted to it.

Just thinking of the picture made him feel queer, almost like he was cheating on Spencer but the lure was undefinable. For the first time in a long time he pulled the drawer from his bedside table completely out and turned it over. On the underneath was taped an envelope, he removed it and shook out the photos. As they spilled over his bedspread, one caught his eye and he picked it up. It was Jenna, she was lying on his bed and she was naked. All the photos were of Jenna in various states of undress and touching herself. He started to feel himself rise and slowly began to touch himself.

On his desk his laptop computer buzzed silently and the little light advising the webcam was on switched to green. The image transmitted over the internet and somewhere in a dark room, somewhere in the world, someone watched as he touched himself to pictures of Jenna. The person's hand reached out and stroked the screen.


End file.
